Public A Step into the Light | Eshan Solstice Festival

[Fiolette Fortan]

E S H A N​

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Jyoti looked good, as did the woman beside her it'd been a while since she had come across either of them. Fiolette sipped gingerly from the flute of champagne and gave the Echani a polite nod of her head. More of a statement than a question she watched as the woman straightened her posture. Fiolette gave a slight inclination of her head that was accompanied by a smile. "It has, but then I've had a little help along the way."​

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She shifted her attention to Ms. Locke, a woman she knew of from days past, and replied just as cheekily, "We never did get around to updating the holo images." It was true, Fiolette looked a lot different in person than her holographic. She was no longer the slim and proper Galidraani who was dainty and quite feminine. Fio had put on some muscle since those old holos had been taken. The Galidraani shifted her attention from the Corellian, back to the Echani. ​

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"Looking at investment opportunities, expanding my company's influence, spending time with my children, grandchildren," and great-grandchildren but she left that out. Fiolette inquired of the Shadow, "And what about you?" Her tone was warm and welcoming, for on this day she harbored no ill-will to either woman although she could certainly understand why Ms. Locke might be upset, then Fiolette found it all the more amusing. ​

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Interacting With: Allyson Locke | Jyoti Nooran ​

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[Iuuna Talon]

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Iuuna had heard of Eshan's splendor from the stories her mother told, but seeing it in person was something else. Even if the planet had endured Netherworld-like destruction. She quietly followed after her aunt and mirrored her aunt's clothing having no other reference as to how she should present herself at such a function. "She means not to be," commented Iuuna quietly to her aunt in a soft voice, "it is what she knows, great grandmother taught her this." It was easier for Iuuna to see past the presented personality of a person, she was more in tune with the emotions of others. ​

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"What is the significance of this event?" Asked Iuuna who kept close to Srina. She observed the people as they moved back and forth from one end of the palace to the other. A second question followed. "Why is it that we look so much like the others?" Then a third question, "why is it important for us to be here? Does our household any importance to the court?" She also wasn't sure why it was significant that they meet with Varanins. "There are others who are not of our kind, those like your master, for what purpose are they here?"​

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Srina Talon | Noelle Varanin | Spencer Varanin | Quinn Varanin | Darth Metus ​

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[Sergeant Omen]

Tag: @ Saram Kote
"Su'cuy, vod. Nice tune."

Omen looked up to see a woman standing across from him, her eyes looking like they had seen a thousand wars come and go. She probably had more than a few stories under her belt as well. The clone laid his flute on the log and removed his hood so she could see his facial scars and know that he was in the same camp as her, a person who had seen their share of battles and was trying to cope with what they saw. With an innocent smile, the Trooper introduced himself.

"Su'cuy, thank you for the compliment. I also accept credits and/or thermal detonators. I just thought if the natives of this world can turn battle damage into something unique and beautiful, then this wartorn galaxy can be made into something nice as well. Not like that is going to happen anytime soon though." The ARC got up and offered his hand to shake, hoping he didn't come off too strong as was his habitat. "I'm Omen, by the way. It is a pleasure to meet you vod. Guessing you are here for some R and R?" After shaking her hand, he would sit down on the far edge of the log, putting the bottle of his tihaar he always carried around between him and where there was an opening on the log for her, an open invitation for her to sit with him.

 

[Evelyn Shaw]

Interacting with: Amea Virou
Nearby: Yula Perl | Phalsi Drynchen
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How many years had it been since she had last set foot on Eshan?

Evelyn had to think on it for an extended period, trying to work out the years. At minimum it had to have been ten, as she hadn’t been present during the invasion. And then throw a few more onto it as their family had departed Eshan. The death of Evelyn’s parents had seen her grandparents uprooting their family, moving elsewhere in the galaxy to just be away from the pain.

And despite her grandmother’s disconnect from the Echani, she never refrained from teaching her. Be it about their people in general, their culture, their way of life and so on. Evelyn was only a teenager when the invasion had happened, the significance of such a devastating event diluted by attention being drawn elsewhere.

Even after she had graduated, Evelyn had only rarely gone to Eshan. There were a few smuggling gigs that had seen Sebsastian and his crew delivering supplies to the dislocated Echani. But Evelyn only felt a strange disconnect when she saw the planet, having only experienced it through her grandmother’s stories.

But now things were shifting, Eshan and the Echani people had found their footing again, and just in time for the Summer Solstice Festival. Evelyn had caught word of it happening, and immediately proposed the idea of going there to Amea.

The Echani had been practically beaming with excitement, to a degree that surprised her girlfriend. Evelyn wasn’t exactly reserved, but to say she was excited would’ve been understating it.

Ultimately the pair had opted to mingle down in the city streets, rather than anywhere else. While the renewed palace was a stunning sight, it just wasn’t their thing. Both women knew they’d grow bored being around all the glitz and glamour. And well, Evelyn was never one to miss a market, especially one that was her birthplace.

“Ugh, I should’ve called grandma, and asked her what we should buy. There’s so many things.” Evelyn’s attention was snapping back and forth to the various stalls they walked past. It was difficult to wipe the smile from the Echani’s face. She looked over at Amea, giving the arm she was currently looped between a comforting squeeze. “It’ll be alright ‘mea, hell maybe we’ll run into a familiar face or two.” She said, unaware there was indeed a particular Zeltron nearby that had some run-ins with Amea.

 

[Amea Virou]

A few years ago, or at least that was how long it felt like it had been since Amea had last set foot on Eshan. At the back of her mind there was a memory of herself and Runi making their way through the streets as Mandalorians, Thyrisians, or Bryn’adul ran amok. Although the imagery of the memory had faded and the pain that went with it had too, it was still something that Amea couldn’t help but ponder as she moved through the streets with her arm wrapped around her favorite Echani.

“Hey, don’t worry on my behalf.” Amea whispered and placed a kiss on Evelyn’s lips. “Most of my friends are either dead, or far far away from here, or both.” Once more Amea chided herself for the jokes and shook her head before she continued. “We have all evening to loop around the market and figure out what looks the most interesting.”

For a brief moment she couldn’t help but catch on to how relaxed she felt. Under normal circumstances it would have been full attention on their surroundings, but in this moment there was just nothing. No imaginary knives pushed to her back, no invisible snipers on the rooftops. Just her, Evelyn, and somewhere in the crowds, a very happy Hoshi.

But perhaps that was what Amea deserved.

She certainly liked to hope so.

“Just, please,” Her eyes wandered over to the knife stand next to them. “No more knives. You still haven’t used the one you got from that backwaters refueling station.”

Well, it was a station over Byss, but what was the difference these days anyway? Deep core, schmeep schmorf.

Interacting: Evelyn Shaw
Near: Yula Perl // Phalsi Drynchen

 

[Inanna Harth]

Miri walked right up to the window when offered, though she didn’t quite look at the queen as she passed, keeping her eyes shyly lowered.

As a child traveling around the galaxy with her archaeologist father, Miri had seen similar rituals performed on many different worlds. Enough that the lanterns rising like beacons in the night held little awe for her, though she admired the sight all the same. Eshan was a pretty planet, even rebuilt after being sacked.

“Are you ready to go?”

Miri turned. Nimdok had stayed close by, peering over the fair heads of several petite Echani to get a view of the lanterns, but now he was looking at her. She nodded and slipped out of the crowd, the empty space she left behind at the window soon filled by another person.

Noelle Varanin | Kal

At some point along the way to the city, Nimdok had taken her hand. He hadn’t done that in a while, not since she was little. They separated as they arrived at the merchant’s stall, her attention taken up by the array of blades wrought in silvery songsteel and ornate phrik engraved with symbols and art.

“You can pick whatever you want,” Nimdok said. “No matter the price.”

Even as she grinned at him, the truth hit her. He was about to deliver bad news, but was trying to blunt the blow with a gift beforehand. It was an old trick of his that had worked when she was a child delighted by new toys, but was beginning to lose its effectiveness as she grew older.

Glancing back at the display, she swallowed and shook her head. “Nothing’s really jumping out at me.”

The salesman piped up, trying to draw her attention to some of the fancier wares. Waving her hand, she stepped away from the stall. Nimdok followed, and they headed along a more secluded side of the street.

“So,” she began, dread knotting in her gut. “What’s going on?”

Nimdok raised an eyebrow at her, then sighed. “I’m going away for a while.”

“Where?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he began softly. “No one can know where I’m going.”

“You’re hiding from someone,” she guessed, frowning. “Who is it this time? Messala is in jail, Darth Prospero is dead, the Sith Empire has fallen—” She stopped. “Is it Darth Xiphos?”

The look on his face told her the answer was yes.

They had reached a stone bridge across a stream that ran like a silvery ribbon through the city. As they crossed it, Miri babbled. “You’ll have to bring Jaina to protect you. And you’ll need a ship—you’ll need to constantly move, stay one step ahead. Fake passes and papers, untraceable technology—will I still be able to contact you in an emergency?”

“Yes. I’ve already thought of everything.” Nimdok was smiling faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You have options. You can stay at the Silver Rest, or with your mother on Coruscant…”

They made it across the bridge. Miri stopped, facing Nimdok, and was struck by how little he had changed in eight years. Only his eyes were different than she remembered, though this was less a sign that he had aged and more a reminder that there was someone else besides her father that made up the sum of the man. Someone she didn’t really know.

“I’ll have to think about it,” she said at last. Coruscant sounded appealing, but she felt awkward whenever she visited her mother, like they were strangers to each other. If Nimdok had stayed much the same, Bithia had completely changed. “I don’t think Mom wants me around.”

Nimdok looked like he was going to say something, but bit his lip instead.

“Can I go with you?” she asked.

He faltered, then shook his head. “No, sweetheart. Everyone who knows me expects you to be close behind. It would be too obvious, and I don’t want to put you in danger anyway.”

“And I can’t shapeshift to look like someone else the way you can.”

“Even if you could, you’d have little control over your abilities at your age.” He smirked. “Don’t feel so bad. With any luck, I won’t be gone for long.”

“Eh.”

“I’ll have to come back eventually.”

“Eh.”

His smirk widened into a smile. “All right. Now that that’s out of the way, I’ve got to tell you about your new baby brother—”

“What?!”

“Just kidding.” He gestured towards the merchant stalls. “Are you sure you don’t want anything? Seems like a missed opportunity.”

Grumbling, she headed over to peruse the rest of the wares.

 

[Saram Kote]

Tag(s): Sergeant Omen ​

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Spoiler: Equipment

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• Armor:
  • 'Vuhyr'yalilyr'gam'
    • Vambrace Weapons:
      • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
        • Plasma Gas Medium Cannister (1)
      • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
        • Electro Darts (4)
        • Explosive Darts (4)
        • Surveillance Tagger Darts (4)
      • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
• Implant(s):​
  • 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package
  • 'Gar Tkiriyr' Neural Interface
• Melee:
  • B-01M Beskad
  • K-02M Kal (2)
• Sidearm(s)
  • LRH-5A Verpine Shatter Pistol w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' 1-4x Short Range Optic
• Rifle(s):
  • AMR-4M Verpine Shatter Anti-Materiel Rifle w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' 1-250x Extreme Range Optic
• Explosives:
  • Smoke Grenades (3)
  • Flash-Bang Grenades (3)

There was something about the man's face that triggered recognition in her. She was sure if she ran it, she'd come up with something in her armor's ID scanner. She decided against it, however, reminding herself that she was on break. He'd seen his fair share of fighting, scars a plenty, but she wagered that was the case for almost everyone on Eshan. Though not everyone on Eshan was sitting by a lake expertly playing hopeful tunes on a bes'bev. She resisted the urge to chuckle. Trust her to find what had to be one of the scant few Mando'ade on Eshan.​

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Saram laughed, "Left my detonators at home, vod." She nodded at the profound statement that he'd made, not in an overtly solemn manner, but a serious nod. "Best to take beauty when you get it. Don't know when the galaxy's ready to throw you back into the fray. Still, who the haran knew you could turn orbital bombardment into something so...serene," she added, a wry smile flickering across her face as she recalled the shabuir responsible, and she'd had him in her sights once, and the slipper shabuir had managed to slip away. It was a testament to the resilience of the Echani people. It was no shabla wonder Exarch Srina Talon had the reputation she did. ​

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"'Lek, vod, figured it's about as decent a place as any for that," she joked, a genuine smile replacing the wry one that'd occupied her features earlier. She extended her hand in traditional Mandalorian greeting, "Saram Kote." In the time it'd taken for her to do so, however, his name had managed to anchor itself into the forefront of her thoughts. Omen. Why did she recognize that name? She knew the name had crossed her desk once, but she'd heard it mentioned by someone else. Finally, it occurred to her, and her features brightened with realization and without missing a beat she exclaimed, "So you're the time-travelling clone verd Ori'vod Shuk'ika has been talking about!"​

 

[Yula Perl]

Phalsi Drynchen | Amea Virou | Evelyn Shaw

"And those shorts really brought out your...assests."

“Yeah, they made my butt look good. Not that it needed the help.”

Yula breathed a dramatic sigh of relief upon learning that the broadcast had been interrupted, which meant less content for Keeping Up With The Perls. She wasn’t even sure if the arena had been authorized to livestream the fights, but the idea of them getting permission for anything was laughable.

The topic shifted from the fight and Yula’s scanty shock boxing attire to Phalsi’s second revelation—Mister Booty. “Oh yeah?” Her challenge of Phalsi’s playful threat came naturally, a little too instinctively. There was no doubt that if the slicer wanted to find out about Dagon on her own, she could. Much to Yula’s surprise, she found herself strangely willing to talk about him.

“Well you already know he’s part of the NJO, makes me wonder what else you’ve got and aren’t telling me.” A cheeky grin accompanied the squeeze she gave her friend’s arm. They’d gotten in line for the kebab vender, gradually drifting forward with the line. “And it didn’t happen that way. Y’know. First time we met was when we tried to bust the same spice operation. He was tied to a chair, and I think I had a whip.” Yula’s index finger curled against her chin as she pieced the details together in her mind. They’d moved to the front of the line by now, exchanging credits for snacks.

“We clashed right from the start, I guess you could say. Kept bumping into each other in warehouses and drug dens—in the end we decided to just work together. Even though we butt heads on almost everything and he’s the most stubborn person in the galaxy with that Jedi-brand savior complex.” Still, she spoke fondly of his more exasperating aspects through a mouthful of grilled meat and charred vegetables.

“Y’know how things just happen? That’s what happened to me an’ Dagon. Not sure how or when, but we went through a hell of a lot with the Sith and them Bryn—Csilla, Kreeta, Krayiss, probably a few others I’m forgetting. Before we knew it, I was dragging him to the Coruscant Mall to watch me try on lip gloss. A few weeks later we even bought a new couch together.” Only because they’d broken the old one.

The more she went on, the more Yula had realized she’d never talked to anyone at this length about her relationship with Dagon. It felt…nice. Nice to let someone else know, without putting it into those exact words, that she was happy.

“So yeah, not really into Alliance types.”

She reached up to tuck one of the silver locks behind Phalsi’s ear. “You look really pretty today, by the way—should take the hood off more. You almost blend in.” A cheshire grin stretched across the Zeltron's face, feeling a little more invigorated after the food and talking about someone she loved.

In their meandering, the pair had wandered in the vicinity of a weapons booth. Yula’s one remaining eye caught the glint of an unsheathed sword,
reflecting a glance of light from one of the floating lanterns white being set out for display. She followed the airborne lamp’s path for a moment to where it hovered above a familiar face, before drifting up and off into the dusky violet of the evening sky. Yula removed the skewer from her mouth, gesturing with its point to the brunette and the pale haired woman she was with.

“Heyyyy, I think that’s my friend Stacey!”

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Tag: Saram Kote

"Left my detonators at home, vod."

Omen let out a chuckle, glad to know that he wasn't going to be shot just yet. The woman in front of him seemed very down to earth and he was glad that she had a similar sense of humor to his. "Well, I guess I'll just have to take your company instead then."

As he listened to her talk about the lake as if it was something magical, he could only agree. Something good things could come out of terrible actions. You just needed to make it happen. As the woman grasped his hand in the traditional Mandolarian way, he tried to remember how his ARC trainers did it back in the day. Even though 800 years still sometimes felt like seconds away, that time often slipped further and further from his mind as he spent more and more time in this version of the galaxy. "It is a pleasure to meet you too Saram. Hopefully, we will see each other some more in the future"

"So you're the time-traveling clone verd Ori'vod Shuk'ika has been talking about!"

His cheery face fell into that of despair as he heard those words. Great, now she would think he was a museum piece too if the whole galaxy didn't by now. He was definitely regretting buying ship parts from Bresrig now though all he could do at the moment was hunch over and bury his face in his hands, groaning softly. When his face came back up for air, he forced a tired smile that looked like it had been frozen with him for the 800 years he was in that cryo pod. "Well, I guess there goes client confidentiality... You probably think I'm just a new piece from the galaxies history that just got unveiled at some city museum on Coruasant, don't you? Something new to gawk at..."

He would get up but Saram would probably just run him down to apologize anyway so might as well save her the trouble. He kept his eyes trailed on the ground, wishing he was buried in it like all of his other brothers were by now. Then he wouldn't have to go through all this trouble just to live an already shortened life. The Trooper could just waste away into nothing, not having to deal with trying to navigate trying to talk to people or navigate his way around a new galaxy. He just could waste away into nothing. Hell, maybe his body's decomposing matter could be used to feed a tree. That would be a useful purpose at least, better than what he was doing now, roaming around endlessly in a very strange galaxy. Well, there wasn't anything for it now. He was in the middle of verbal combat and needed to keep the conversation flowing. "So... I'm guessing since you know the big alor personally, you either work for him or are related to him. Which one is it vod?"

 

[Inhye Oh-chai]

The ribbon belt was too tight,

the norigae too noisy,​

and the champagne too bitter.​

Inhye hadn't realized that a number of years lived as a spacer had forgotten her many things: her figure, her ear, her taste; all refined even as a lady's maid. She was still nobility after all.

Or was.

The long past Rancidus rebellion on Atrisia had cost her not her birth but her birthright. Xam'Chi and Jar'Kai, as well as select surrounding areas to which the Confederacy had not been able to prohibit infection, had been dealt more than their fair share in damage - a mixed bag of property and personhood. She had witnessed the destruction as it began to unfold standing steadfast at her lady's back and looking out through the grand windows of Parliament. And she only saw more, much worse, from there.

But she didn't stay long enough in either the capital nor the good graces of the government to witness the planet's recovery. As she passed over the palace stoa and cast her gaze onto the shimmering waters flowing underfoot, Inhye liked to imagine it would have been similar to Eshan's, though unalike in precise circumstance that necessitated it. Maybe a tomb to the unnamed fallen near Xiaolang. Hopefully. There had been too many of those.

Anyway.

Tonight's festivities were supposed to be ghostless, alight with the future rather than bogged down by the past. The former noblewoman had happened upon the open Eshani royal invitation scrolling the holonet late one standard, spacer's night. The promise of luxury long forgotten had warmed her up in the embrace of cold starship steel likewise embraced by starless vacuum. The choice to ignore these summons were not in the cards, though there would be no consequences if she didn't heed.

Indeed, no one would would miss her if she passed up one festival. She was sure not many knew her, and the few who might did only by name utterly infamous in interroyal rumor:

Noble Inhye of House Oh-chai, former handmaiden to Lady Eun Ae Da, condemned for treason and obligated exile.

Of course, there was more to it all, but that was the point.

She was lucky that her countenance wouldn't be as well-known to privy circles as her reputation. Though the latter was bad enough, both would be worse. Both would have meant she couldn't have tried to heal here tonight.

When Inhye had found her way into the central ballroom, she politely declined the usher's offer to announce her. Instead, she descended a staircase quietly and, at the bottom, began to wander the room's sidelines, not shy but also not practiced at participating. That was simply not the place of a handmaiden. It was security, safety.

A sudden gleam barely caught Inhye's eyes amongst the golden of royalty and of high summer. She looked up in time to spot a child across the way sliding the handle of an ornate serving spoon into the inner panel of his jacket.

Instated handmaiden or not, she'd better stop him. A muddied name could always get muddier, if not only to herself.

She started circling clockwise towards him, keeping eyes everywhere but.

So easily came on the glove, like she had not neglected it at all.



~
Noelle Varanin | Kal
Hanbok Dress

 

[Spencer Varanin]

//: Srina Talon //: Iuuna Talon //:
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Parties were never their thing. It happened more often than not that the Varanins decided to sit on their couch and eat ice cream. Though since her resurrection, there had been a desire to be around people. Spencer couldn’t help herself; she wanted to be surrounded by the living after years of shying away from them. Through the years, she had learned to control her empathy. The Force guarding her mind against the ebb and flow of emotions from the living.

Old habits die hard. The only person she liked in this galaxy was Ashin, but others have found a place in her tiny heart. The former Queen moved elegantly through the crowd, smiling and having her pleasant conversations with those that had heard of her death. The official story was a faked death to calm the several assassins nipping at her heels. Of course, Ashin had made quick work of those that threatened the woman’s life, and now she could enjoy retirement.

“Mm, yes, she has done well. I’m very proud of her.” Spencer smiled gently as a noble expressed their joy of having Noelle as the Queen. Nodding again, Spencer gently placed her hand on the noble’s shoulder and excused herself.

People were exhausting, and few understood her desire to remain on her own or around those she favored. Spencer retreated to a secluded corner and sipped a slender flute of champagne. Behind the glass, she smiled as she saw the hooded crown of one, in particular, she favored possibly above her own children.

Handing the glass over to a server that passed her. Spencer quickly made her way towards Srina Talon and the girl beside her. The former Queen reserved a smile for her favorite spread across her face as she spoke to the other Echani. “I’m surprised to see you, my dear Srina. It has been too long; I’ve missed your presence.” Looking towards the girl, she raised a brow. “Is she yours?”​

 

[Noelle Varanin]

Kal | Inhye Oh-chai​

"Hm," was all she said, falling into a brooding silence besides him. Theoretically the city would be able to withstand the harsh winter without the previous strains. The exodus to the countryside resulted in a boom of self-sustaining estates. The excess in supplies were often distributed outwards-- to nearby estates, and then onto the city. If it wasn't for outside aid that first winter, those that had survived would have likely starved. She could say with growing confidence that this year would be the last any winter assistance was needed at all.

She picked up a fresh glass and turned to watch the crowd, a nudge of energy tugging at her mind. Quinn had arrived. ...Along with...something else.

She hid her frown inside a sip as began to reach her energy to--

A flash of silver distracted her. The nimble fingers of a boy quickly pocketed a piece of fine silver. Her brow shot up, but the dirty state of his clothing and the tangled nature of his hair quickly marked him for what he was. She said nothing, her energy subdued as she watched him turn to lackadaisically reach for a second spoon.

"Does your new skin like pastries?" she teased Kal, a twinkle in her eye as she rounded towards the table. Unfortunately, it was still a ways away. Another seemed to sweep in first.

 

[Saram Kote]

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Tag(s): Sergeant Omen ​

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Spoiler: Equipment

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• Armor:
  • 'Vuhyr'yalilyr'gam'
    • Vambrace Weapons:
      • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
      • PC-05V Plasma Caster
        • Plasma Gas Medium Cannister (1)
      • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
        • Electro Darts (4)
        • Explosive Darts (4)
        • Surveillance Tagger Darts (4)
      • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
• Implant(s):​
  • 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package
  • 'Gar Tkiriyr' Neural Interface
• Melee:
  • B-01M Beskad
  • K-02M Kal (2)
• Sidearm(s)
  • LRH-5A Verpine Shatter Pistol w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' 1-4x Short Range Optic
• Rifle(s):
  • AMR-4M Verpine Shatter Anti-Materiel Rifle w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' 1-250x Extreme Range Optic
• Explosives:
  • Smoke Grenades (3)
  • Flash-Bang Grenades (3)

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Saram immediately cringed when she saw the man's reaction. 'Great, now you've gone an insulted him,' she inwardly lamented. That had been far from her intent. It wasn't everyday that you heard about a man out of time, like this. A man who by her every instinct she could swear was Mandalorian, but at the same time had an unfamiliarity with the culture that she couldn't quite place. "No vod, I only gawk at attractive men from behind my buy'ce," she tried sheepishly, hoping to lighten the mood. She hoped to the Manda that worked, or that he didn't take her too seriously, because otherwise this was going to become an "epar taab*" moment.​

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"Besides, we Mando'ade take our history with us into battle, we don't leave them in museums. Statues at the most, but I'm positive you have to be dead for that," she laughed, just as sheepishly as her previous statement. "And you're still up and kicking shebs from what I hear." Her words hung in the air for a moment till he asked her if she was related or if she worked for Shuklaar. She thought for a moment about how to answer that question before she answered, "Both, in a way. I'm an Al'verde in Strill, but Shuk'ika has been an ori'vod to me ever since he and my ori'vod have been burc'ya. He's clan Kyrdol, and we're clan Kote, but our aliit have always been close."​

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"Look, I didn't mean to insult you or..." she started, trailing off before letting out a sigh. Fishing into one of her pouches, she retrieved a wax paper wrapped package and slowly unwrapped it, releasing the spicy, sweet, fruity aromas of uj'alayi into the air before she crouched down. Holding the now revealed Uj cake out to him, she added, "Fresh start. Buir always said a friendship that starts with uj cake is one that lasts for life."​

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*Rough Mando'a approximation of "foot in mouth".​

 

[Sergeant Omen]

Tag: Saram Kote

"No vod, I only gawk at attractive men from behind my buy'ce,"

When Omen heard those words come out of his companion's mouth, he couldn't help but chuckle loudly at the woman's attempt to change the subject. He didn't blame her for looking at him differently, his outburst was mainly from the shock that people were talking about him at all. "I guess I'm very unattractive then since I don't see your buy'ce anywhere near your head." The clone held his heart as he moaned in pain, instantly collapsing onto the soft sand like an imaginary bullet had penetrated his armor. Well... there... there goes... my ego..." The smile on his face as he recovered back upright tried to show that he was jesting her and that no harm had been done. "Well, I'm sure whoever your stalking is a very lucky man." He knew better than to go further than that. If she wanted to flirt further with him... Well, they would see the result.

The Clone only nodded as she talked about the Mando's connection to history. He was sure many vods kept war trophies and dodads from their adventures. Like Vaux Gred with that light whip of hers. Having artifacts proved that their mettle in combat, that they had survived through the worst. It was also part of why he didn't repair the scratches in his ship, to show he had been in action before and just wasn't some trader. Well, that and he really didn't want to pay to repair cosmetic damage. "Why else would the Droten rebuild the Oyu'baat after each and every time it's been destroyed. Its the history. You could just build a newer, cleaner, more modern bar but it wouldn't have the same atmosphere or blood on the floor." He didn't mention that he had an altercation there but Shuk'ila had probably hyped that up to her as well. He winked as he replied to her compliment. "Well, I'm still kicking at least and that is what matters."

He listened to her detail her relationship with the Shuk'ila. He especially listened to the clans with interest."I'm happy to see you had someone to count on all your life, people like those are hard to find. I haven't found any yet at least." With a quick sigh, he rubbed his dried-out eyes that the wind off the lake had caused. "Sometimes I think it is better to die that way, no one has to trouble with mourning you or missing you, just disappearing into the force depending on whether you think it exists or not" And that was too personal, now she is going to think you are a suicidal manic before you even show her in person.

With a cough and a few moments of silence, he changed the topic to the clans. "Never been in a clan before or even had a last name but I've been reading up on it a little bit in my free time. I know Vizsla and Skirata are probably near the biggest one nowadays. Funny story actually, I almost got shot by a blue-skinned Twi'lek that I found out was a Vizsla later on when I was responding to her ship crashing into Kashyyyk's soil. That... That was a fun day..." He was still trying to forget that ever happened in his mind while his mind just did not want to let that memory go. Some days having a perfect memory was helpful and sometimes it was the pits. "I mostly run cargo shipments for the Silvers for work and volunteer on their special forces team when they need me but I always would be up to assist you in your duties as an Al'verde. If you need a marksman to complete your traat'aliit, just let me know. I'll give you my comm code when we part so you can get in contact with me again."

He held up his hand to stop her mid-sentence. "It is hard to be insulted when there was not an insult to be had. I'm just was a little shocked the alor wanted to talk about me at all. Not like I've destroyed a Death star or something like that. Plus I'm more used to people's bad-mounting of clones because of what we are. The Silvers certainly do because of the chip in my head... Either way, I'm glad to have met you. Though I still will take the Uj'alayi as an apology" He took the fruity cake for her, setting it on the log, and got his butterfly knife out, cutting out slices for him and her. He quickly took a piece and bit into it, eager to taste the traditional Mando foodstuff. It did not disappoint with its sweet nutty flavor coming through in a heartbeat and there was something else too... A fruity glaze maybe? Whatever it was it was hard not to stuff the whole cake in his mouth. After swallowing, the ARC licked his lips. "The cake is really good, I might have to ask you for the recipe." He uncorked the bottle of Tihaar he had brought with him, offering it to her. "We don't want this to go to waste as well now do we?" Maybe this was the start of something good and maybe it was nothing. All Omen knew that he had secured another contact that would not shoot him on sight when they met next. To him, staying alive till it was time for him to die in the way he wanted was all that mattered. Hopefully, Saram Kote would help him do just that.

 

[Kal]

Noelle Varanin | Inhye Oh-chai​

Pausing for the briefest moment at her response, he reconsidered his initial impression; was she concerned about the winter itself, truly? Perhaps he had overestimated Eshan's logistical capabilities, but then this side of the equator had been hit harder a decade ago. More critical targets, perhaps.

As she turned her attention to the drinks, his eyes drifted to August Oreno - a smug smile on his lips. The man was a competitor of sorts, even if he did not know it... Kal too wanted those docks, for reasons all of his own. Reasons that were best served by keeping Noelle out of it.

As such, the man's impending faux pas was an enjoyable distraction he had no intention of preventing.

"I find that I like pastries in most bodies, truth be told. Especially the sweeter ones." Slender fingers nabbing a trio of treats along the way, Kal visibly enjoying the first treat, an elegant thing topped with white chocolate marked by patterns that resembled gold filigree. All the while he was happy to accompany Noelle as she honed in on a spoon-stealing child, mostly due to the assumption that she would behave reasonably.

One could hardly fault the impoverished for grasping for wealth, doubly so for children.​

 

[Inhye Oh-chai]

​

Another two spoons plus a fork had left their respective place settings by the time Inhye had closed to actionable distance with the little pickpocket--or, more appropriately, picktable--but so was the price of subtlety.

"Ay, adeul."

She spoke at an inside volume easily drowned out by the crowd but somehow registered intently by the boy's ears. He jolted bolt upright, second spoon falling from his hand and clattering silently in the overall clamour to the floor. Who was speaking to him, nevermind how. He hadn't had parents in some years; the son epithet would have been just as strange, maybe even stranger, on a familiar tongue.

Inhye stepped in close beside the boy before he could recoil much. A discrete hand on his arm kept him from anymore. A carefully-coordinated footfall covered the fallen spoon up from prying eyes.

"I think those utensils belong on tables, no?"

The boy began to blubber.

"I'm not a cop," she promised before he could come to sense. True. Security, but not police. "Just a concerned citizen." Again, true. No royal affiliations. Blissfully mundane.

"Pass them to me," she suggested. And, anticipating the boy's rebuttal in need of money to support himself, "Take my norigae. It'll fetch a pretty price. And--" She smiled to herself there, still completely serious but just now finding wiggle room for humor. "--you know, you won't have to fence it."

All the while talking, her free hand had been untying her accessory from her coat strings. She parted back from the boy just enough to offer the ornate tassel to him.

She didn't need it anymore.

Had been holding onto it too damn long anyway.

The boy glanced down at Inhye's heirloom. Any other child might have scoffed at the insinuation of a trade of silver for a series of knots interspersed with beads. But his blue eyes widened, a testament to his budding career as a thief. The streets had taught him many things, but for as long as he had been on them he had never seen Atrisian artistry. Still, his appraiser's eye was hungry for silk and jade and sacred geometry.

His hands went into his jacket to produce the swiped goods. Then he balled up the norigae in his palm, nodded at her with tight lips, and strolled away.

Inhye watched a half dozen strides before stooping to gather up the remaining spoon. When they were all hidden away in her sleeves, she gravitated towards a waiter's serving platter and lifted a cucumber and lox tea sandwich. Hors d'oeuvres in the absence of strong liquor would have to be enough to steel her nerves for the task ahead: putting the settings quietly back.

She herself had been hanging out on the streets and star lanes for entirely too long as well.



~
Noelle Varanin | Kal

 

[Jyoti Nooran]

Dress

Kids. Grandkids.

Fiolette had been quite the busy bee.

In these dark times, many people didn't even live long enough to marry, let alone build a family, so multiple generations was a small feat in itself. At the mention of the holonet, Jyoti also observed that Fiolette had been keeping busy in other ways, much more definition to her muscles slightly bulging under her suit - she was jacked. By comparison, the tall Echani was quite lean, a dancer's physique.

"Not much different from you, really. Up until recently, I've been working as a consultant and spending quality time with my family. Not quite so large as yours, I'm afraid." She laughed at that, her silvery voice like chimes.

The conservation so far was surprisingly cordial, so wasn't too bothered about being interrupted - parties were for socializing after all - though she felt something unpleasant bubbling up within Allyson.

Oh, that was right, the Corellian had been part of the old Galactic Alliance, while Fiolette had been an admiral with the First Order at the time.

That all seemed like a lifetime ago, well before her time on the galactic scene, but old wounds weren't so easy to forget.

Allyson Locke Fiolette Fortan

 

[Noelle Varanin]

Kal | Inhye Oh-chai​

The undead could have a sweet tooth.

Huh.

Amusement lifted up her features, softening her expression as she delicately picked her way through the crowd. She was in no rush, nodding and greeting the curious as she passed. All the while she managed to keep tabs on the boy. She did not really know what she intended to do, but... the urge to try was at least there. Better her than the guards, right?

Sometimes she forgot just who she was now a days.

The whole gesture was lost when another more skilled Lady stepped in. Noelle, paused, her shoulders turning back to Kal. She picked up a pastry of her own and bit into it, observing the scene from -- The sweetness of the custard tart sat overwhelming on her tongue. She made a face and placed it on a pacing tray.

By the time she looked back up, the boy was gone. The tassel remained missing from the woman's dress, and she looked set on fetching a drink for her loss. Noelle almost turned from the exchange without another thought, but then she saw the first spoon come out of the woman's sleeve.

Noelle's brow shot up, a look passed back to Kal.

She hesitated, then dipped in besides the stranger, reaching for a tart with a little less color to its creme. "It isn't often we open the gates to the public like this," she commented, her tone noticeably pleasant.

All the while Inhye Oh-chai would be left, heavy-sleeved, to look up from her contemplation.

 

[Inhye Oh-chai]

​

"It isn't often we open the gates to the public like this."

No.

It surely wasn't too often any palace did a thing like this.

Was equally strange for nobility and commoners alike for wholly different reasons. Exchanges with the worse of the rabble like what Inhye had just endured tended to upset the former despite the rarity and sterotypicalness of their nature, while the vast majority of the latter stepped into an enthralling world of their wildest dreams. How did Inhye know that? She felt a similar way--would certainly have been easily overwhelmed by the nonexistent night if she hadn't called upon the ghosts of her royal oriental past.

Their memories were all that kept her royal image together at the seams, but just barely.

"I wouldn't think so, Lady," was all Inhye offered as her gaze swept the thick crowd for an elusive drink. Not a twang of worry tinged her voice fluttering how a spent cherry blossom fell. Soft, calm, without betraying all its worries to the world.



~
Noelle Varanin | Kal

 

[Kal]

Noelle Varanin | Inhye Oh-chai​

It seemed Noelle had been beaten to the punch and thus forced to actually enjoy her own event's treats for a few seconds. Until, that is, she spotted how the situation had been resolved. Meeting her raised brow with a slight shrug, he sampled another pastry, enjoying the subtle mixing of sweet and salty. He had his own opinions, of course, but he doubted they were what she had in mind - much too pragmatic.

<You know, a fenced item is much less cost-effective than a carefully considered donation.>

They were close enough that she might notice the motion of his lips if she was appropriately trained. Noelle would just have to deal with telepathy, for once. One of these days she would be forced to admit its profound convenience, he was sure - there was that stubborn streak, however.

Seemingly quite unconcerned by the interaction, he positioned himself nearby - conveniently beside a table of treats - and watched with a typically smug smile on his lips. Occasionally, his eyes drifted outwards, monitoring other situations of some interest.​